


I've been waiting a lifetime.

by fuuckya



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Trigger Warnings- Eating Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuuckya/pseuds/fuuckya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second part to 'Tell me that we'll stay the same.'</p><p>Louis tries to think of it like the light emitted from the sun, or star, but it’s not nearly as poetic or beautiful as he would like</p><p>It hurts, to burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've been waiting a lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> I put my playlist on again and here we are.  
> 'Tell me that we'll stay the same' was originally a one shot, this is closure.  
> Please enjoy :)

Every morning is a new beginning and Louis tells himself that every day.

He wakes before the sun rises these days because he has to go to work, keep the world turning. 

He stumbles to the bathroom ungracefully, splashes cold water on his face until he can see straight enough and shuffles back to the bedroom.  
The sky is grey, always grey and everything looks nostalgic in the dim light. 

He gets himself ready and tries not to think too much because it’s too early and too cold and he shouldn’t worry himself because he’ll worry himself to death.  
He turns to find his other shoe and his heart skips a beat when he sees Harry.

+

Harry is so quiet and distant and scared and he still takes up all the room in Louis heart, and it still feels wonderful.

He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, shut out from the world. Louis’ hands hurt because he wants to touch him. He wants to brush that stray curl from Harry’s forehead and wake him up with kisses. 

But it’s almost 5.30am and it’s way too early for this. 

Louis bites down on his thumbnail instead and finishes his routine. 

+

He gets to work and thinks of Harry. He makes some phone calls and thinks of Harry. He takes his lunch break and thinks of Harry. And on his way home, well-

When he gets through the front door the boy of his dreams is sitting on the couch. He’s bundled in Louis’ dark grey jumper and he’s reading, curled up in on himself and Louis wants to bury himself in there, in the warmth and read along as well, like they used to do.

Harry’s gaze immediately turns to him, still seeks him out in a room, he’s halfway through a sentence and he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Louis walks over and kisses him, their lips barely ghosting each other. No other part of their body touches but Louis can still feel the electricity burst through his veins like a dam that could no longer be contained.

There is a message on his phone that he hasn’t bothered to read until now, it’s from Zayn:

**Harry makes the best omelettes ever! He ate the whole thing and had half a glass of juice. Have fun at work x**

+

Harry eats now and you can see it in his thighs and in his cheeks. He’s a little brighter and it looks beautiful on him.

He likes fresh juice in the mornings and no dressings on his salads.

There is a stack of cooking books in the corner of the counter in the kitchen. Louis tries to read while Harry cooks but he can’t take his eyes off Harry long enough to take a word in.

They have the boys over for meals and sometimes Harry goes to the late night gym a few blocks away while the rest of them watch movies and drink beer. 

He buys ice-cream in all different and exotic flavours. He watches Louis eat and will allow himself a taste, his says his favourite flavour is honeycomb but Louis hasn’t seen him eat any. 

+

Harry is amazing and pretty and sweet and Louis loves him so much.

The world used to rush around them and they would both stand still and take it all in.

Now Harry is rushing as well, along with the rest of the world. He’s further away than Louis’ touch can reach. 

He lets himself get caught up, lets it break him down. 

He’s a paper boat floating on a pond, and it’s a matter of time and a stretch of patience now. 

But Louis is caught up in the rat race too, and he pretends that he isn’t, but every day he watches his boat float further away from the coast and he isn’t fast enough to swim and catch it.

+

At night, after a long day at work, Louis likes to get into a warm bed with Harry.

Harry is always so loving and cuddly. He’s kind and caring and always there to listen. 

These days when Louis tries to cuddle up to Harry’s side the younger boy kisses him, doesn’t let it linger and says, ‘I’m sore from the gym, babe,’ like it explains his constant need to push Louis away. 

Instead he lets Louis hold his hand and it sets his bones on fire and right now, it’s enough.

+

Louis burns for Harry, only Harry, and it’s so bright and sometimes it’s all too fucking much. 

He can feel his edges curl as the flames lick at his skin, dance across his flesh. Louis tries to think of it like the light emitted from the sun, or star, but it’s not nearly as poetic or beautiful as he would like.

It hurts, to burn.

But then Harry will look at him from across the room with his pink lips and endless eyes and he thinks it’s worth all the pain in the world, just to be with his boy.

+

They go to Holmes Chapel for Harry’s birthday because he’s 19 and he wants to see his mum. 

They hold hands and smile but they are still a million miles apart and if Harry’s mum notices she doesn’t say anything.

He lays Harry on his childhood bed and if only walls could talk, he’d be a very rich man.

He still looks like he’s 16 and there is still a radiance about him. But Louis knows he is far from the boy who used to sleep in this bed. He’s a little more torn, a little more broken.

He’s damaged and soiled and infinite and he’s all that Louis never knew he needed. 

So Louis crawls into the single bed with him and it’s definitely not made for two grown men, but they manage to sardine next to each other and make themselves fit. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to get too dizzy on Harry’s smell and patiently waits until he falls asleep.

+

Anne is lovely, so kind and sweet, just like her son.

She tends to their needs, cooks them lunch and makes their bed. 

She comes over and pats Harry on the head, makes a loud, exaggerated noise when she kisses him on the forehead and Harry laughs.

He laughs and slaps her away and he’s happier with her touches then when Louis tries to curl up into him at night. 

Louis pretends it doesn’t hurt.

+

They’re sitting in opposite armchairs watching ‘Friends’ and there is a whole canyon between them and Louis feels like he wants to scream.

He wants to wrap Harry up in his arms like armour and protect him because the world is such a terrible place full of horrible people. He wants to take Harry away so they can live in a little cottage by the sea and be happy.

He wants to understand Harry; wants to know why he thinks his body betrayed him, why he looks so sad all the time, even when he smiles.

Louis wants to understand because Harry is so magnificent and lovely and Louis’ heart aches for him and only him. Forever.

+

When they get home a few days later the storm cloud is still wallowing in the kitchen.

Harry unpacks his bag with his music blasting through the stereo and Louis makes himself some tea because he needs to make himself feel better. 

Harry comes downstairs and leaves the music on and he’s humming and there is a bounce in his step.

He’s wearing Louis sweatpants and tshirt and Louis’ heart still beats out of time, only for a second, when he sees him.

Louis thinks, _wouldn’t it be nice._

+

That night, before bed, Louis is brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

Harry is finishing off his tea in the kitchen and there is a clanging sound as he washes up.

Louis bends over the sink to rinse his mouth and wash his face, he feels two arms circle around his waist and he almost jumps out of his skin.

When he stands Harry kisses him on the back of the neck, slow and sweet and his hands rub circles on his tummy.

‘You scared me,’ Louis whispers, the moment is fragile.

Harry hums into the hairs on his neck and peppers kisses there.

‘Love you,’ he says, looking at Louis in the reflection of the mirror. Louis stares back, completely submitting to Harry’s touch. He’s weak.

‘Will you fuck me?’ he asks, leaning back into Harry’s warmth. Harry inhales the smell of his hair and his arms fall from his waist.

‘I’m tired, Bear,’ he says, like it’s not the first time. 

‘Okay,’ Louis replies, he’s done this dance before. Okay.

+

He thinks of Harry like he’s the weather; he’s unpredictable and comes in thunderous storms and calming summer afternoons. 

Sometimes Harry will come to him in the night, seek his heat out from between the sheets and wrap around Louis like a cocoon of skin and legs.

Other times he will be half off the bed, creating an empty void between them, like he was desperate to get away from Louis in his sleep.

Louis will wake up during those nights and think that Harry would be better off somewhere else in the world, somewhere incredible like New York or Tokyo or Moscow.

He feels like he’s there already, some nights. 

Harry falls off the bed with a thump and a groan and if Louis wasn’t so sad, if Harry wasn’t all the way in Istanbul, he would have found it rather funny.

+

Louis wakes up on Monday in the early afternoon, he loves having Mondays off.

The bed is wide and empty when he wakes and he feels stupid for feeling lonely, but he is.

Harry used to wait so they could wake up together on his days off. 

He gets up and pulls on some shorts and a pair of Harry’s socks and a fleece jumper and goes to the kitchen to make some tea. Harry isn’t there either. 

Their apartment is cold and there is a draft that comes from the front door. Louis likes to think of it as a ghost who comes to visit every winter when he’s alone and the place is empty.

He turns the TV on and mutes it and he plugs in his Ipod to the sound system, and lets the music occupy the space that Harry left.

+

Harry comes back a few hours later dressed in his gym clothes, hairline wet with sweat. He’s shaking.

‘It’s cold outside, Bear,’ he mumbles and if Louis didn’t know any better he would have opened his arms for a hug. 

He lets Harry brush past him on his way to the bathroom and he shivers as the cold radiates off his body and holds his tea closer. 

‘Do you want some tea?’ he calls after him and he hears the bathroom door close in response.

He makes Harry his tea anyway, exactly the way he likes it and leaves it on the kitchen table for him to find. 

When his boy returns from his shower he tells him, thanks for the tea, I might have it later.

Louis tells him that it will get cold and his voice echoes around an empty room and he’s not surprised he feels alone.

+

Louis likes to touch.

He likes to touch Harry’s soft, milky skin and feel the sun emitted from deep within.

These days Harry wears big, baggy trousers and jumpers that fall over his hands, and it’s the middle of winter, he gets it, but he can’t help but mourn the loss of something so great.

Harry is delicate in the snow when they are walking down the streets of London. He shuffles along with his head down, face buried in his big woollen scarf and Louis thinks he’s so heartbreakingly adorable.

They stop on the corner to wait for the lights and Louis goes to bury himself inside Harry’s jacket, and he mewls happily when he does.

Harry kisses his forehead with cold lips and pulls away from the embrace even before the lights have changed. 

Louis stands next to him on the street corner and still feels so far away. 

+

**Has Harry always mixed his cereal with his smoothies? Is that what normal people do?**

The text is from Liam, it’s his turn to see to Harry.

**He licked his bowl clean, btw :) x**

Louis’ chest relaxes; they made it past another breakfast unharmed.

When Harry started to eat again, before he discovered calorie counting and portion sizing and the all night gym in the neighbourhood, each meal would be a hurricane.

Liam, Zayn and Niall all agreed to be on breakfast watch because Louis started work at an ungodly hour each day.

He heard news that Harry would bargain, plead and curse until he was practically pinned down and force-fed each spoonful of his food.

When Louis made them breakfast on the weekends, Harry would keep his head down and eat in silence, wouldn’t even fight him.

Much has changed since then, but Harry will still talk to the spot on Louis’ chest while he eats his eggs like he’s still learning how to communicate with him again.

+

He’s like the weather too, Louis thinks.

Sometimes he’s like a tornado, twisting uncontrollably and unable to forgive himself. 

Other times he’s a beautiful spring morning, warm and filled with aromas of rose, jasmine and lavender. 

Most days he feels like he’s the latter and when he’s not he’s not sure who to blame.

+

‘Louis’ Harry says and it’s like music to his ears. 

Harry steps into the bedroom and Louis wants to go to him and fall into his space and be him. 

‘Yes, darling,’ he replies, trembling with love for this boy who has been put through so much, who will always be beautiful no matter how hard he’s been pushed.

Harry joins him on the bed and it dips a little under his skin and bones, he looks tired and worn out, but he’s still so pretty.

‘I did something bad,’ is what he says and Louis can see now that he’s been crying. His emerald eyes are rimmed red and his voice is thick with tears and he’s so, so amazing.

‘What did you do, sweetheart? You can tell me,’ because I’ll always love you. 

Harry inhales a shaky breath and it doesn’t seem to calm him, more tears spill down his cheeks.

‘I haven’t eaten in two days,’ he whimpers, shrinking into his large frame like a dog recoiling from a beating, ‘I’m really sorry, I don’t-‘ 

There is a loud rushing in Louis ears and he think he might pass out, his head is swimming and there is a sinking feeling in his chest. 

+

Louis hates him.

Louis hates how sad he is all the time, how his shadow follows him around like he’s dragging a ten tonne boulder on a leash. 

It feels more like a chore than a choice, living with him.

Louis hates that Harry can’t be touched, like he get’s pricked if he does.

He hates it because it fucking hurts that Harry can barely even look at him sometimes.

He runs himself ragged, runs for miles and miles and Louis is surprised sometimes when he returns home, sweaty and exhausted.

His limbs are drained and he drags his feet all day but he still gets up early on a Sunday morning to run. 

He hates Harry, screams it into his hands and he cries until his whole body shakes and he hates him.

Hates him so much and never in his life did he think it was possible. 

+

Liam keeps offering him food or drinks, his maternal instinct coming out with guns blazing. Louis insists that he’s fine but he’s not sure he ever will be again.

Liam’s room is small and plain, it’s cosy and comforting and makes Louis thinks of home.

Not home next door. Home in Doncaster.

‘How are you feeling?’ Liam asks and he’s sitting on a chair next to the bed while Louis is stretched out on the sheets and he kind of wants to laugh.

He feels empty and broken and every time he thinks of Harry (which is all the time) he feels as if he may be sick. 

‘I’ve had better days,’ he admits blandly and Liam nods, but it’s more like a reflex than anything else.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ 

‘No,’ Louis snaps, defences up, ‘You should be playing psychiatrist with Harry, not me.’

Liam sighs and it’s all for effect. He leans back in his chair to stare at the ceiling,

‘You need to give him time, Lou. You need to go home and help him, make sure he knows you’re there to help.’

Louis almost loses it; his hands fly up to his face, trying to push the tears back into his eyes.

‘Fucking hell!’ he bursts, ‘how hard is it to get better?’ 

As soon as he says it he feels terrible. The words feel thick as bricks when they leave his body, and when it’s all said and done he still feels as heavy as before. 

+

The human body is fragile enough as it is, made of bones that can be broken by hand, skin that can be split by teeth.

Harry is more so than some, Louis thinks. 

His skinny lover is small and tired and weak and can easily be broken.

Louis likes to think he is strong enough for the both of them, that his armour was built big enough for two. 

Yet he finds himself sitting in Liam’s bathroom crying so hard he can barely catch his breath, and he thinks he’s let Harry down, that he wasn’t strong enough.

It’s not the first time.

+

He stands at the door to their bedroom for a good fifteen minutes before he goes inside.

He’s sad and cold and so unbelievably exhausted. 

Harry’s curled up in the middle of the bed and even from his position in the doorway Louis can see how small he is.

He takes off his jeans and crawls into bed and its instinct that he reaches to brush the curls from Harry’s eyes.

‘I’m really sorry, Lou,’ Harry whispers, and Louis can see he’s been crying.

‘I know,’ is what he replies, stroking his thumb across his forehead, ‘I know.’

‘I’ve been so good.’

‘I know,’

Harry sniffs loudly, eyes fixated on Louis and Louis thinks he might just drown.

‘Just go to sleep, bub, we’re both tired,’ he says, closing his own eyes to make a point. 

He feels Harry curl into him not long after and he hates that it stings.

+

‘How much do you love him?’ Niall asks him one day when they’re hanging out alone, and it’s so simple, like he was asking Louis if he wanted some tea.

Louis is stunned by the words that seem so graceful when they fall from Niall’s lips, but carry so much weight they would sink to the bottom of the ocean.

He almost drops his phone because – _how much does he love Harry?_

He thinks back to the boy he met in the rain, who wore paper thin skin and soared so high in the sky.

He remembers all the times he has found solace in Harry’s arms, found peace in his warmth.

He remembers all the times Harry had hurt him.

He looks back at all the nights where he has stayed up late, waiting for Harry to come home from the gym. He thinks of all the times he ate alone at the kitchen table.  
In this moment Louis realises that despite it all, Harry is everything. 

Harry is the center of his universe, and every part of Louis rotates in orbit around him.

‘I think I love him too much,’ is what he says and it’s true, and he tries to tell himself that it’s not a bad thing.

+

He gets back to their apartment and he feels a little lighter somehow, despite the dense atmosphere of his own home. 

He puts on a movie and curls up on the couch and tries to focus on other people’s problems.

Harry must have heard him because he comes in with a blanket wrapped around him and settles on the couch at his feet.

They sit in silence aside from the noise from the TV, and when the movie starts to grow boring does Harry speak.

‘I miss you,’ he says and it’s so brutally honest and sincere and Louis almost forgot what that was like.

Louis stares at the TV and wishes he wasn’t so emotionally invested in his boy. 

‘I haven’t gone anywhere,’ he says and it’s sharper than he intended. It’s you who has gone.

He thinks he hears Harry say something, ‘I know,’ but so much silence had elapsed between them he stopped paying attention.

+

Louis is so drunk.

He’s at a work function and there is an open bar and he’s drunk.

He’s sitting on the lid of a loo and the linoleum tiles beneath his feet are blurred, like he has opened his eyes underwater.

Where is Harry? Harry should be here.

The world is spinning and in his drunken haze does he have a sober thought; he misses Harry so much and he feels so helpless and alone without him. 

He can’t be without him. 

And if Harry isn’t here, then he’ll just have to go to Harry.

+

It takes him a lifetime but he’s finally at their flat trying to untie his shoes before he gets into bed.

Harry hasn’t made a noise since he barged in about fifteen minutes ago, and doesn’t until Louis crawls into bed fully clothed seven minutes later.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks the darkness and he sounds angry, it’s 2.30 in the morning.

‘Missed you,’ Louis slurs, tongue tied in knots in his mouth, ‘for so long,’

Harry sighs and rolls over to face him, Louis eyes have adjusted to the dark but everything is still spinning in the feint light, ‘you don’t love me anymore,’ Louis pouts, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest.

‘Of course I do,’ Harry says and his tone is bland and the words heavy and it slaps Louis in the face, ‘you’re drunk. Go to sleep, Lou,’

‘You don’t have to be such a prick all the time, y’know?’ he wasn’t able to stop himself, but he likes how it feels anyway, so he lets the words go.

‘Lou, go to sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning,’ Harry snaps, pulling away from Louis’ body heat and rolling over again.

Before Louis knows it he’s stumbling loudly into the living room calling out behind him, ‘don’t fucking worry about it you skinny fuck!’

+

The next morning rolls around and Louis is so insanely hungover that even blinking makes him nauseous. 

He meets Harry in the kitchen and the younger boy looks broken, eyes puffy and red, making them breakfast.

The previous night smacks Louis in the stomach with a sledgehammer and almost dry heaves when it comes crashing back.

He goes to apologise but his mouth is so dry and he feels like last night needed to be done, although he could have handled it better. He can’t be the one feeling sorry all the time.

Harry doesn’t say anything when he serves him and turns to take his own plate back to bed; he stops in the doorway to speak to him,

‘You really hurt me last night, Lou.’ And he looks like he might break down again, ‘out of all the things you could have done, you do this and –‘ he breaks off with this look on his face and walks away.

Louis is too unbelievably sober for this and his heart breaks.

+

He stays at Zayn’s and Niall’s all day and he’s scared to go back to Harry. He’s scared of what he will find, what he will see. 

He’s scared that they won’t ever be the same after this, even though things haven’t been the same for a long time.

+

He lets a week pass with no more than a glance at Harry. 

His heart is fractured enough as it is, and being depraved of Harry has broken him.

But through his pain he only sees red and Harry makes his knees shake and heart race.

Harry’s runs seem to go longer, takes him further out of the city.

Louis is still surprised when he comes home, panting and ghostly white. 

Louis is angry and relieved and grateful.

+

He’s sitting in traffic on his way home from work and the bass of his speakers make his mirrors dance but it still doesn’t change the rhythm of his heart.

He needs to focus on other things, he thinks.

He finally gets home and is so exhausted and a migraine has begun in the roots of his head. 

He wants to bury himself in Harry’s arms and make himself feel better.

He wants to try.

+

Harry looks so exhausted, so sad and always beautiful. 

He’s sitting on their bed wearing Louis’ tshirt and it’s painful to see, it sits a little big on him and it just looks so wrong. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ Louis says, the words bursting from his chest, ‘You know I didn’t mean it,’ 

‘But you did,’ Harry whispers, voice failing him, ‘I know you did, I know you.’

Louis is not going to lie to him, not now, not after last night. So he musters up all his remaining strength and says ‘I love you,’ and it hurts.

‘Don’t, not yet, okay,’ Harry spits and he’s crying now and Louis rushes to his side, all the hate and anger falling away like rocks off a cliff face. Harry’s touch may be breaking his heart, the skin of his wrist so soft, but he can’t let him pull away, not anymore.

‘You pushed me so far and I couldn’t reach you when I needed you,’ Harry sobs, sadness wracking his body, ‘you left me,’ 

Realisation hits Louis like an active grenade. He should have been there, should have moved boulders and buildings and men to be by Harry’s side.

Instead _he_ was pushing him away, keeping them apart.

He watched the tide slink back off the shoreline and cried about loss but never really tried to get it back.

All this time had elapsed and Louis wallowed in his own heartbreak and sorrow and all along he was being selfish and greedy and blind. 

Harry wasn't unfixable, he was slowly beginning to mend. He didn't need help, he needed time. He needed Louis and Louis wasn't there.

He wants to say something but he chokes on his own sobs, he’s not sure when he started crying.

Harry shifts their position and pulls him further up the bed, pulls him closer and they both cry into each other’s embrace.

+

Harry lives his life with open arms, takes the blows he receives to his chest because somewhere deep inside he had been expecting it all along. But those blows, even expected, has worn him thin and split his skin.

He deals with the problems of life in different ways and he shouldn’t be loved less because of it.

Harry is vulnerable and lost, but he’s also strong and brave. 

Louis knows now that Harry isn’t perfect, far from it. But who is he to judge?

He has learnt that sometimes the foundation for demise is born inside a person. It can turn someone into their own greatest enemy, and it’s the most devastating thing of them all.

+

Harry is cooking fish and Louis is cutting up tomatoes, it’s a Friday night.

Harry busies himself with cleaning a few dishes and when Louis is done he goes to help. He reaches for a mixing bowl and goes to dry it and bumps Harry’s arm as he does so.  
Sparks shoot through his veins and Harry blushes so beautifully, pink blossoming high in his cheeks.

It’s nice, easy. Just as it should be, just like it used to.

Louis steals a glance at his boy and his cheeks ache because of his smile, he doesn’t mind a bit.

When he’s done he snakes a hand around Harry’s waist and feels him tense, its a reflex now.

‘Is this okay?’ Louis asks, hands trembling because of contact, he’s dizzy on Harry, drunk off his touch.

Harry smiles down at him, shoulders aching from carrying the world, aching because the weight has been lifted off after so long, ‘its okay,’ he says, kissing Louis sweetly.

It’s okay. They’re okay.

+

The fire exit door has never had an alarm on it, Niall tells him one day. He hopes that his mischievous friend is right as he drags Harry up the damp stairwell leading to the roof.

People with their own problems, friends, lovers rush past below them, Louis wonders how many of them have stories like theirs.

He turns to Harry looking bright in the setting sunlight. He’s special, beautiful, alive and belongs to Louis as much as Louis belongs to him.

He pushes up on his toes to kiss his mending boy, thumbs the hinges of his jaw and relishes in the life within him.

Harry pulls him closer, snaking an arm around his waist to keep him in place, close orbit.

The sun sinks below the skyline; night-time begins to dust over them in greys and blues. A new day brews below the horizon.

Louis thinks that every day is a new beginning.

Harry’s hand it warm in his, fingers vibrating with promises, with love, with forgiveness.

And he’s more than ready to start a-new with a boy he has loved for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> Series Title taken from: Life is for living - Coldplay.  
> Part 1 title taken from: Clair De Lune - Flight Facilities  
> Part 2 title taken from: Waiting - Green day


End file.
